


You Must Be the Manny

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Nanny, Children, Kid Fic, Locked In, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from the one where John is the hot ad exec dad and Chris is the manny. And Chris has his work cut out for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WIP in the sense that I'll probably keep writing scenes and adding them as new chapters.

Mr. Cho's office building looks like the sort of place that Chris shouldn't even think about standing adjacent to, let alone going inside. But when he stops in his tracks across the street with Lila's little hand in his, she gives him one of her looks—the kind Chris knows she inherited from her father—that reads, _What the hell are you waiting for? What are you, some kind of pussy?_ So they cross the street and go inside the damn building. Because Chris isn't about to let a six-year-old girl call him a pussy. Even though she didn't. Not out loud, anyway.

Of course, Cho's firm is on the eighty-bajillionth floor, so Chris is still trying to get his ears to pop when they step out of the elevator. There are huge picture windows everywhere and the view is out of this world. A beautiful chrome and glass desk sits in the middle of it all, where a rakish man with extremely high and slicked-up hair sits, his fingers flying over his keyboard. He's typing so fast, Chris thinks it has to be gibberish. Also, the hair is very high. It must be hiding something. Secrets, maybe, or a flock of rare, tropical birds.

"Caaaan I help you?" the man—Zachary Quinto, his nameplate reads—asks without looking up.

"Yes, we're here to meet Mr. Cho for lunch."

Zachary deigns to regard them and smiles tersely, just for a second, when he sees Lila. Then he turns to Chris with a bland expression. "Ah. You must be the _manny_."

"Well, I prefer 'childcare professional,'" Chris says. "But yes. I am. I'm sure you've met Lila."

"Of course," Zach says. He tilts his head, his muscles stiff with the body language of a person who clearly has no idea how to speak to children. "How are you doing today, sweetheart?"

It's pointless anyway because Lila doesn't really speak to strangers. Or people. She's just starting to feel comfortable around Chris, after nearly a month working with her, and she still barely says ten words per day to him. She's big on holding his hand, though. And, for the most part, her expressions say more to Chris than words ever could.

Clearly, she’s no big fan of Zachary's, either, because instead of answering or even shrugging, she sticks her finger up her nose and pulls out a long, stringy booger. Then she wipes it on the pristine glass surface of his desk. Zachary makes a noise that sounds distinctly like massive organ failure.

"That…that's just lovely, Lila," he says through gritted teeth. "Thank you for that sweet memento."

Chris bites back a laugh. Lila looks incredibly pleased with herself and he can't blame her.

"Um. So is Mr. Cho ready?"

"I certainly hope so." Zach picks up the phone and punches a button, looking sour. "Good afternoon, sir. Your daughter and the _manny_ are here to see you," he drawls, with all the vitriol he can muster. A second later, he hangs up. "You can go in. He's in a good mood."

"Oh, good."

"By which I mean a bad mood."

Chris squints. "Then why would you say…"

"He's waitiiiiing," Zach singsongs.

Chris doesn’t waste any more time. The thing is, he's kind of afraid of Mr. Cho. Not like, _afraid_ afraid, just…a little intimated. Cho is a crazy successful advertising exec with suits so sharp you could cut yourself on the lapels. The most they've ever spoken was when Cho hired Chris for the childcare job, and even then, his words were curt and to the point. Most mornings and nights, when they cross paths, Cho barely speaks to Chris. Between him and his daughter, Chris is surprised he hasn’t gone crazy from the sheer and lethal amount of _silence_ he deals with on a daily basis. He and Lila often have lunch with Zoe, and it's always a huge relief to spend time with someone who actually employs the English language for communication purposes. Lila seems to like Zoe, which Chris is pretty sure has to do with Zoe's clothes. She has a covetable wardrobe, even by a six-year-old's standards.

Cho is on the phone when they walk into his office, barking orders at someone, and wow, Chris forgot how sexy the guy's voice is when he’s not grunting for a cup of coffee. Lila lets Chris' hand go and runs to his side immediately. Without skipping a beat, Cho reaches down and scoops her into his lap singlehandedly. Once she's settled, he spares a glance for Chris, and while he doesn’t stop berating the poor person on the other end of the phone call, his eyebrows go all screwy. It's not an expression Chris has seen before.

It can't be good.

"Pine," he says, right after he slams the phone down. "What the hell is this?"

"This?"

" _This_ ," Cho clarifies, flicking a finger at him. "You look like Little Edie, if she grew a dick and stumbled into a secondhand store in Flatbush. You think I'm going to let you be seen in public with me and my daughter looking like that?"

Chris looks down at himself. "But…I always dress like this."

"And it's fine at home, where human beings can't look upon you and despair for their mortal souls, but we're going out to a nice lunch in a nice restaurant and they have a no-hobos-allowed policy."

Chris looks to Lila, almost as if she could provide some backup here, but she's busy pushing buttons on Cho's calculator. Traitor.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I didn’t know. To be honest, I don't really own anything nicer. I can just stay here while you two go out and then take Lila home when you're done?"

Cho exhales and bounces Lila on his knee, just once. "I invited you to lunch. You’re coming to lunch." He pushes a button on his phone. "Zach, get in here."

The grand dame of Midtown walks into the office, not two seconds later. "Yes, boss?"

"See this?" Cho says, pointing to Chris. "Fix it."

Zachary looks Chris up and down and bites his lip. “How long do I have?”

"Forty-five minutes."

"Sir, there's no _way_ I can—"

"Make it happen and I'll give you those comp tickets I got from MSG for the Rihanna show," Cho says.

Before Chris can even process what's going on, Zach steps forward and snatches the hat off his head, throwing it in a nearby trashcan.

"That's handmade!" Chris says.

"Handmade by dirt farmers on crack." Zach grabs his wrist and tugs him toward the door. "Let's go, fashion plate."

"Forty-five minutes!" John reminds them.

And, after a whirlwind tour through two nearby high-end stores that Chris doesn’t really remember or understand—aside from the wandering hands of strangers taking his measurements and getting a _little_ too close to the family jewels—he ends up back in Cho's office, wearing a button-down shirt, a perfectly fitted suit jacket, tailored slacks, and shoes that probably cost more than everything Chris owns in this world combined. Also, Zach shoved him into a men's room with a razor and cream and forced him to shave. Chris tried to protest but the high-pitched retort of "SHAVE, DAMN YOU!!!" led him to reconsider.

Zach looks a little worse for wear, huffing and puffing with one strand of dark hair falling from its perfect perch down to his forehead. Chris would laugh, but he feels someone else's eyes on him and he realizes quickly that it’s Cho. The guy is full-on _staring_ at him, his dark eyes trailing their way up and down Chris' body and, uh, well. He can't say he minds it. Even Lila looks impressed.

"Better?" Chris asks, turning around. "More suitable for lunch?"

Lila tilts her head. "You look like a Disney prince," she says.

Chris blinks and looks at Zach. "That's…the most I've ever heard her say at once."

"I thought she was mute," Zach whispers, his eyes wide.

"Zachary," Cho says. He opens a desk drawer and pulls out an envelope, handing it over. "Tickets."

"Omigodomigodomigod, _thank you_ ," Zach says. He takes them and squeals his way out of the office. Cho smirks and ushers Lila off his lap, standing.

"Let’s go. I'm starving," he says.

It's not until they're in the elevator that Chris thinks to ask where they’re going for lunch.

"Outback Steakhouse," Cho replies, watching the numbers tick their way down.

Chris gapes. "You ran your assistant ragged and spent…god knows how much money, all for a lunch at _Outback Steakhouse_?"

John buttons the front of his suit jacket as they reach the lobby and gives Chris an enigmatic smile—the very first Chris has ever seen from him. It looks damn good on him and Chris suddenly, desperately wants to make him do it again.

"We like the Bloomin' Onion," he says.

"Bloomin' Onion!" Lila exclaims. They walk out of the elevator together, hand in hand.

"Bloomin'…okay, sure," Chris says. He shakes his head in confusion and hustles along behind them.


	2. Chapter 2

It isn't unusual for Karl to call Chris in the middle of the day and ask him to go out for lunch. Usually, he wants to meet up somewhere else first—in this case, a record store downtown, because Karl is the type of guy who still frequents record stores. Karl doesn't have a job and hasn't for as long as Chris has known him, and yet he can afford to go shopping all the time, whether it's for records or antiques or expensive, artfully weathered-looking leather jackets. Chris has only asked once where Karl gets his money from and Karl only shrugged and said, "Around." As if there are bags of money hanging out in various corners of his apartment, waiting to be pilfered whenever Karl has the urge to splurge. 

Karl has a nice apartment, too. Chris has seen it twice: once when he and Karl got a little too drunk at a pool hall and went back to Karl's place to touch penises, and once when he helped Karl drag a new sofa up his stairs. The latter time might have also ended in penises. On the sofa. But that was a while ago. Chris is usually too broke these days to do the things Karl wants to do, so he ends up staying home, watching Netflix and eating Easy Mac, and the only penis he tends to see is his own.

It's been sad, his penis. Lonely. C'est la vie, he supposes.

When he walks into the shop, he spots Karl with a bunch of records already tucked beneath one arm, humming to himself as he looks through the R&B section. He's one of three customers and the others just seem to be there to browse. One of them might be planning to urinate in a corner.

"Singlehandedly keeping the music industry alive, I see."

"Someone's got to do it," Karl says, looking up with a grin. "Nothing sounds as good as vinyl. It's the only way to listen to music. I'd rather cut off my own dick than buy a song from fucking iTunes."

"That seems…harsh."

"Figure of speech."

"I invited Zoe," Chris says. He glances around and shoves his hands in his pockets. "I figured you wouldn't mind. She's got an early shift today."

Karl's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, really?" he drawls. Chris has to smirk. He knows that Karl's got a little thing for Zoe and when Karl has a thing for someone, it usually results in, well…penis. Because Karl is like that. Chris isn't sure if Zoe reciprocates at this juncture but it's probably just a matter of time. On the other hand, Zoe has much more willpower than Chris. And character. And style. Etc.

"Yeah, and you'd better not ignore me all through lunch, because it takes me a while to save enough money to eat out. As it is, it'll only suffice if we go to, like, Wendy's."

Karl makes a dismissive noise. "I am _not_ sitting under a flickering fluorescent light and watching you eat a plain baked potato again, mate. I haven't seen something that sad since I watched a rat try to huddle in a used condom for warmth on the West 4th subway platform."

"You slay me, you really do."

"I know. Anyway, don't worry about lunch. It's on me."

" _How_?"

Karl almost looks like he's about to answer when Zoe walks into the shop, heels clicking along the tiled floor. She looks sharp as always, thanks to her job as a personal shopper, and she smells like the perfume that her store is trying to push this month. Chris detects a strong note of jasmine. 

"Thanks for meeting on the later side," Zoe says. "I have had a motherfucking _morning_."

"Well, you look stunning," Karl says, leaning his hip against the rack. "Do I smell sandalwood?"

"Jasmine," Chris says.

Zoe nods and gives him a thin smile. "Very good, Pine. You're not as much of an unrefined hobo as you look. Seriously, what is this?" she asks, snatching the beanie off his head. Then she takes in the state of his hair and cringes, handing it back. "Never mind. Put it back on."

"I ran out of hair gel," Chris sighs, running fingers through his limp, mussed hair. "I haven't, uh, had a chance to buy more."

"Good lord, are you that broke?" Zoe frowns. "I really don't want to repeat that Wendy's value menu experience."

"Yes, I'm broke, and I'm rethinking my participation in this lunch outing. I have a perfectly good can of tuna at home, just waiting to be cracked open and savored."

Karl huffs. "Why do you insist on making me depressed? _Rat condom_ levels of depressed?"

"You have to come," Zoe says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a card, waving it around. "Or else you won’t hear about the sweet job prospect I have for you."

Chris attempts to snatch at the card even as he yelps, "Job? Lemme see!" but Zoe yanks it out of his reach. He pouts at her. "It'd better not be another cologne spraying gig. I got death threats. And they seemed valid."

"My boss' friend is looking for someone to watch his kid. He's like an ad exec, single dad, spends a lot of time at the office. And I remembered that you did that minor in child psychology, so…"

"Watch a kid?" Chris says. "I can watch a kid. Watching kids is easy." He takes the business card from Zoe. "John Cho, the Cho Agency. I guess he's the boss."

"Child psychology?" Karl asks, his mouth half full of peanut M&Ms he's procured from somewhere. "No offense, but you don't really strike me as the kid type."

"Gimme," Zoe says. She holds out her hand for M&Ms. Karl obliges her, of course. "Pine is actually good with kids; I've seen it. He came with me to my little cousin's birthday party and ended up entertaining all of her friends for the entire afternoon."

"Mostly by letting them shove cake into my hair, but yeah. They were putty in my hands."

"He's expecting to hear from you so call that number after lunch and set up an interview," Zoe says. "Now, please, Karl, hurry up and buy your dumb hipster records so we can get out of here already. I'm _starving_."

"Oh, these?" Karl says, glancing at the records tucked under his arm. He scoffs and puts them all down. "I wasn't actually going to _buy_ them. I'm not some sort of pretentious hipster who only listens to vinyl, you know."

Zoe turns on her heel. "Yes, you are." Chris shrugs at Karl and pockets the card, following her out. Karl exhales and scuffs his shoes. 

"Hold those; I'll be back later!" he yells to the store clerk as he runs after them.

After a nice lunch that's decidedly more expensive than the Wendy's value menu, Chris calls the number on John Cho's business card on his walk to the subway. He's surprised when Cho answers the phone; he didn't expect that the number would be a direct line.

"Oh, hi, um. My name is Chris Pine and I'm a friend of Zoe Saldana's? She's, uh…I guess her boss is a friend of yours and—"

"The nanny position," Cho says brusquely. "That's why you're calling, correct?"

"Oh, um. Yeah. That's why."

"Come by for an interview."

"Okay, sure. When?"

"I'm free now."

Chris blinks and pauses in his stride. "Now?"

"I have the day off, which is a rarity, and my daughter and I are both home, so now is the best time, yes. If you seem to be a good fit, you'll meet her."

"I'm not really dressed for an interview…"

"I'm not hiring you for a modeling position," Cho says. "I don't care what you're wearing. Just come by."

Except that when Chris gets to Cho's (insanely large and amazing, holy shit) penthouse apartment, he's greeted at the door with a slow once-over and a subtle lip curl. And, despite all of that, it doesn't escape Chris' notice that his possible future employer is crazy attractive.

"You're right; you're not dressed for an interview," Cho deadpans.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Chris says. He takes off his beanie and holds it in both hands like a moron. "Is this better?"

Cho glances at his hair. "No."

"I ran out of hair gel."

"I don't really care."

Chris follows him into the (ridiculously huge and impressive) apartment and watches as Cho pours himself a glass of scotch. He waves a hand when Cho turns around. "I'm good, thanks." 

"I didn't offer." He sits down in a comfortable-looking armchair and motions for Chris to sit down as well—on the ottoman. Chris winces internally but he does it. No questioning who's in charge here. "So. I'm told you minored in child psychology at Berkeley. Do you have any hands-on childcare experience?"

"I spent most of my teenage years working as a babysitter," Chris says. "I majored in English—"

"Big mistake," Cho says, sipping his drink.

"Uh, yeah, as it turns out," Chris admits. He laughs faintly. "I had a few publishing internships after I moved to New York but nothing really panned out, what with the recession." 

"Mmm." Cho nods, looking only half-interested in what Chris is saying. "Ever been arrested?"

"Uh, no. Never."

"No repressed pedophilic urges?"

Chris gapes. "No!"

"Then you'll probably do." He turns and raises his voice. "Lila, come join us, please!"

A few seconds later, the most adorable little girl comes trotting out, a stuffed dinosaur tucked into the crook of one arm. Her free thumb is stuck in her mouth but it pops out the second her father gives her an admonishing look. 

"This is Lila," Cho says. "She's six years old. Lila, this is Chris Pine."

"Hello, Lila," Chris says with a wave. Both father and daughter look at him expectantly until he realizes he's supposed to say something else. He clears his throat and smiles faintly. "I'm, uh…twenty-seven years old. I live in Brooklyn, I really dig dinosaurs, and I make a mean peanut butter and banana sandwich."

Lila's dour expression seems to lighten. "I like dinosaurs, too," she says.

"I can tell. You ever been to the Museum of Natural History? I could take you there sometime." 

Lila gives her dad a semi-hopeful look. Chris smiles but it's quickly erased when he notes Cho shifting uncomfortably in his chair—definitely the guilty look of a guy who doesn't have time to do basic parenting things like taking his daughter to a museum. It's possible that Cho doesn't have any interest in that stuff but Chris would wager on the former scenario.

"You can only take her if you get the job," Cho says, taking another swallow of scotch.

"Oh. Um. Right. I didn't mean—"

Cho motions to the kitchen. "Why don't you go and show off your sandwich skills? We should have all the ingredients."

Chris nods and stands up, making a show of cracking his knuckles. It gets the tiniest smile out of Lila, which is kind of the best. Five minutes later, Lila takes a bite of the test sandwich—complete with a bonus smear of Nutella, which Chris found hanging out in the cabinet, begging to be used, even if it was technically cheating—and Chris secures himself a new job. The sandwich is obliterated in about fifteen seconds and Cho looks like he might actually be jealous.

"I can make another one," Chris offers. Cho rolls his eyes.

"It'll be a demanding schedule," he says. "I work long hours and I need you to be here any time I'm not. Sometimes I have weekends off, sometimes I don't. You may need to spend the night occasionally. And I highly suggest you don't bring anyone here for a sleepover."

"Of course not," Chris says, alternately nodding and shaking his head. "I'll be at your beck and call, I promise."

"We'll do an hourly rate. Does thirty sound acceptable? I'll also reimburse you for meals and visits to museums and whatnot."

"Thirty…dollars? An hour?" Acceptable? It's more money than Chris has ever made in his _life_.

"Well," Cho says dryly, tilting his head. "If you think that'll be enough to cover the cost of that hair gel."

"I mean, uh, probably."

"Good." He looks down at Lila, drinking from her glass of milk, and nods. "You'll start Monday. Be here at seven a.m."

"Yes, sir. Thank you so much, Mr. Cho. Have a good day, both of you."

Lila peers at him over the rim of her glass and doesn't say a word. Chris can tell he's got his work cut out for him. He decides to make a quick exit.

"Oh, and Pine?" Cho calls, making Chris pause on his way out. "Don't think I didn't notice the Nutella."

Chris bites back a grin and shrugs. "I play to win."

Cho nods and it's not disapproving. Then he flicks his wrist. "You can go away now."

"Er, okay. Sorry. Bye," Chris says. He's pretty sure he catches another secretive Lila smile as he shuts the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fills the "locked in" square on my Trope Bingo round 3 card.

It’s not typical that Chris shows up early for a day spent with Lila, but he’s got a big day planned at the aquarium. It probably won’t make quite as big of a splash as the Museum of Natural History, but they’ve already been there three times in six weeks, and Chris is worried the employees will start to recognize him. 

When he knocks on the front door, Lila opens it instead of her dad, which is also atypical. 

“Hey, Lila, where’s your—”

“Tag, you’re it!”

Lila smacks him on the thigh and goes off running, and man, the kid has a mean backhand. 

“Okay, great. Nothing like a game of tag at…seven-thirty in the morning.”

Chris hisses through his teeth, shuts the front door behind him, and follows her. Clearly, Cho gave her an extra dose of sugar today. He follows her toward the other end of the penthouse, trying to track the sound of her tiny footsteps scampering across the beautiful hardwood floors. Chris checks what feels like a hundred rooms, but the kid keeps dodging him.

He’s barely paying attention to where he’s going until he looks up and realizes he’s in a bedroom. A master bedroom. Definitely not a place he should be.

“Oh, crap,” Chris mutters. He moves back toward the door but not before Cho walks out of his bathroom, wearing only—shit—a towel around his waist. 

“Pine?” Cho says, grimacing. “What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

Then the bedroom door slams. And locks. Which is just fabulous.

“Now Daddy has to come to the aquarium with us!” Lila exclaims on the other side of the door. 

Cho curses and strides past Chris, and Chris resolutely does _not_ take a moment to admire his well-defined chest and torso, nor the droplets of bathwater adorning his bare shoulders. Nope, not one bit.

“Lila, I can’t come to the aquarium with you. I have to go to work. That’s what adults do; they go to work. Do you understand?”

“But you always go to work! I want you to stay home and have fun with me!”

Chris tries not to wince visibly. Lila has been opening up to him, slowly but surely, but she’s still attached to her father most of all. And Cho really does work _all the time_. Lately, he hasn’t even been making it home in time for dinner. Cho glances back at Chris and Chris offers his best sympathetic expression. He drops it when Cho scowls in return.

“Take the day off?” he suggests. “Unless there’s something going on today that can’t possibly wait.”

“I suppose I could reschedule my meetings,” Cho says. “But I don’t want to set a precedent of rewarding this type of behavior.”

“You won’t. Lila’s a reasonable kid. Maybe you could strike up a deal—like, she never pulls a stunt like this again and, in return, you take off one day each month to do something fun with her.”

Cho lifts an eyebrow. “And you, you mean. Something fun with her and you?”

Chris shrugs. “I’m game. But I don’t have to be there.”

“Yes, you do.” 

Cho pins him with a meaningful glare that Chris can’t quite decipher. He’s guessing it’s some sort of parenting insecurity on Cho’s part—it’s not as though he would actually _want_ Chris to be there, if he had a choice. 

“Daddy, are you mad at me?” Lila says, quieter now. She sounds close to tears. Cho shuts his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose.

“No, Lila. I’ll go to the aquarium with you and Chris today, okay? But you have to unlock the door so we can talk about this.”

“Okay,” Lila says, her voice still small but hopeful. Chris blinks when he hears a weird rattling noise. “Daddy, the doorknob came out of the door.”

“What?”

The other side of the doorknob falls to the bedroom floor. This time, Chris can’t hold back the cringe that takes over his face. 

“Are you mad now?” he asks.

Cho shuts his eyes, exhales through his nose, and—just as Chris expected—doesn’t reply.

Ten minutes later and they’ve convinced Lila to stay by the door and not wander off, while Cho goes to the other side of the room to get dressed. He and Chris exchange an awkward glance and Chris turns away, distracting himself with Googling for locksmiths on his phone.

“Uh, do you have a locksmith you normally use?”

“Call Zach,” Cho says. “He’ll take care of it.”

Chris rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t want to owe any favors to that pompous parakeet with eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I can handle finding and calling a locksmith myself.”

“Just call him,” Cho barks, getting pissed off. “It’s what I pay him to do.”

Chris is pretty sure Cho only pays Zach to buff his nails at his desk while he haunts Grindr all day, but he doesn’t dare say as much. He finds the main office number in his contacts.

“Cho Agency, this is Zachary.”

“Hey, Zach…ary. It’s Chris Pine, calling on behalf of Mr. Cho.” After a brief silence, he sighs. “You know. The manny?”

“Oh, right, the maaaanny,” Zach drawls. Chris can hear his grin through the phone. “What’s the problem, Mr. Manny?”

“I’m, uh, locked in Mr. Cho’s bedroom. With Mr. Cho. We need a locksmith.” Chris can hear Zach typing away before he’s even finished speaking. “Uh, hello? Did you hear that?”

“Yes, dingus. I’m already booking an appointment for you. In the meantime, you can tell me what you were doing in Cho’s bedroom.”

“I—it was nothing, just—”

“Were you having _sex_? God, I didn’t think he’d be the let’s-screw-the-manny type, but people surprise you. Ooh, does he have any toys? I’ve always wanted to know.”

Chris flushes down to his toes. “Oh, my god, _no_ , it’s not—”

Just then, Cho walks over in boxer shorts, his shirt still unbuttoned, and snatches the phone out of Chris’ hand.

“Quinto, stop making chit-chat and get us the fuck out of here. You got that? A half-hour or less. And you come too, so my daughter isn’t scared when a stranger comes to the door.” He purses his lips. “Fine, forty-five minutes. But any longer than that and I’m docking your pay for a month. And reschedule all of my meetings for the day. Goodbye.”

Cho hangs up and tosses the phone back to Chris, who catches it awkwardly. So much for endearing himself to Cho’s assistant.

“Forty-five minutes isn’t so bad,” Chris says. “We know Lila’s okay and she’s already had breakfast…” He sits on the edge of the bed without thinking, leaning back on his elbows. Cho shoots him an incredulous look and Chris jumps up immediately. “Um, sorry.”

“You’re right; there are worse things,” Cho says. He starts to button his shirt, which is kind of sad, since Chris was enjoying that view. “I just wish I hadn’t left my phone and laptop in the living room, so I could actually do some work while I’m stuck in here. It’s going to be a pretty unproductive forty-five minutes.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Chris glances at the bed and thinks of some pretty awesome, ultra-productive things they _could_ do. Then he forces himself to stop, so he doesn’t pop a boner in front of his boss. When he looks up, Cho is smirking at him as he pulls on pants. “What?” Chris asks.

“You look nervous. Does being in my bedroom make you nervous?”

“No, not at all. I mean…it’s an awkward situation, you have to admit.”

Cho tilts his head as he zips up. “Why is that?” Chris twitches.

“Um, you know, it’s just, you’re just…” He motions toward Cho as he racks his brain for a good save. “I’ve never been locked in my employer’s bedroom before. Any employer. Especially not while he was in there with me.”

Cho narrows his eyes. “What did Zach ask you?”

“He asked me if we were okay. Unharmed, I mean. And if we needed any medical assistance.”

“Medical assistance,” Cho repeats. He takes a step closer and gets this look in his eyes, almost…predatory. “Is that why you were turning beet red? Does the mere thought of an ambulance make you blush?”

Chris feels himself blush _again_. Damn his pasty, Northern Californian ass. He licks his lips and tries to find the right words. “No, he just…made a comment that, in turn, made me a little uncomfortable.”

“Oh.” Cho pauses in his movement and nods, turning away. “Probably something about you being in my bedroom, right? Well. He’s a good assistant but he can also be a little prick. Don’t let him bother you.”

Chris blinks and smiles, not expecting the show of support. “I won’t,” he says. “Thank you, sir.” As the words leave his mouth, Chris thinks he can see Cho’s nostrils flare in the mirror. 

“Just ‘Mr. Cho’ is fine,” he says.

“Right. Mr. Cho. Sorry.”

When Cho turns back to him, any trace of whatever Chris thought he saw before seems to be gone. He looks taciturn now, a little gloomy. “I’m sorry about this. I thought having a constant in Lila’s life would lessen her attachment to me, but I guess that’s not the case. Not that she doesn’t adore you, of course. She’s been having a wonderful time with you; I can tell.”

Well, Chris doesn’t hate to hear that. He smiles as the warm fuzzies threaten to overtake him. And who’d have ever thought that Cho would be someone liable to give him the warm fuzzies?

“I get it. No matter how fun I may be I’m no substitute for her dad. No one is.”

“Thanks, I think.” 

Cho looks vaguely wracked with guilt but he manages a half-smile that somehow brightens the room, despite being one of the saddest things Chris has ever seen. The swooping sensation in Chris’ gut tells him he’s either got a major crush on his boss, or that tofu stir-fry he had for dinner last night isn’t sitting well. He’s afraid it’s the former. Yeah, definitely the former.

So what the fuck is he supposed to do with _that_?

“Um,” Chris says on a swallow. “I guess we should go check on Lila. Make sure she’s keeping herself amused.”

“Yes, good idea.”

They walk over to the bedroom door together and sit on the floor. Cho regards the fallen doorknob with a sigh while Chris tries to make sure their knees stand no chance of touching.

“Lila, you doing okay?” Cho calls.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m coloring in my book,” Lila says.

“Okay, good.” Cho glances at Chris, looking pained, as if to ask what he should do next. Chris shrugs and mouths the word _aquarium_. “Uh…what are you most looking forward to seeing at the aquarium?”

“The sea otters!” Lila exclaims. “They’re small and they’re cute and they sleep close to each other so they don’t float away…”

Cho nods along with Lila’s excited chatter, looking proud and impressed by all the facts she knows. Chris picks up the doorknob and shuffles it between his hands so he’s not tempted to stare. But when Cho nudges Chris’ foot and gives him another smile, Chris knows he’s doomed.

It’s going to be a _very_ interesting day.


End file.
